before he became police chief. No, he drove by the grand mansion for one reason only. Midnight held bad memories except for two magical months. And the woman who owned the house on Wildefire Lane had been the reason for that magic.
Ten years had passed since he’d seen her; held her in his arms, tasted her lips, heard her laughter, basked in her smile. She had gone on to fulfill her dreams. He had told her she would and he was glad to know that he’d been right. They’d been two kids who’d found what they needed at the time. Then life had interrupted in all its realistic and dirty glory.
As he came to the long drive leading to the mansion, Zach stopped the car. Even though it had stood empty since Daniel Wilde passed on, the residence was kept in perfect condition. Caretakers came weekly to mow the lawn, and a cleaning service dusted the furniture twice a week. He’d heard that fresh flowers were added to vases twice a week, too. With this place being the location of one of the most famous murder-suicides in Alabama in the twentieth century, gossip was rife about every aspect of the mansion. Some had even whispered that the ghost of Maggie Wilde still roamed the halls, calling out for her daughters. A few had claimed seeing a blond woman in white standing on the second-floor portico. Southerners did love a good ghost story.
The mansion was the traditional plantation-style home. Giant white columns, three on each side of the long, narrow porch, were so large and sturdy looking, they appeared to be holding up the entire structure. White rocking chairs gave off the appearance of restful indolence, and blood-red roses creeping up the trellises splashed vivid color against the stark white background of the brick. Moss-draped giant elms and oaks hovered protectively over magnolia, mimosa, and weeping willow trees. In late spring and early summer, the scent of the flowering trees, along with the thick fragrance from the wild honeysuckle in the woods behind the mansion, was almost overwhelming in its sweetness.
A few people still came by on their way to Gulf Shores or Biloxi to take pictures and gawk at one of the most famous mansions in Mobile county. When Zach looked at the massive picturesque structure, he saw something else. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned wavy, honey-gold hair that covered slender, delicate shoulders, eyes the color of new spring grass, and a smile like the first hint of summer after a bitter cold winter. And beneath that beauty, a genuinely sweet and kind spirit. Falling for Savannah had been so damn easy. Even ten years later, not a day went by that he didn’t think about her. And not a day went by that he didn’t curse himself for what he’d done to her.
The radio sputtered and the dispatcher, Hazel Adkins, croaked in her smoker’s voice, “Chief, you coming back to the office anytime soon?”
Zach shook off his memories and grabbed the radio mic. “Headed that way right now. What’s up?”
“Got a call from Reid Garrison, district attorney up in Nashville, Tennessee. Said he needed to talk to you real soon. Sounded kind of urgent-like.”
Zach’s heart stuttered. Savannah worked in the DA’s office in Nashville. Did this have anything to do with her? He mentally shook his head. No. There was no reason the DA would even know about his past relationship with one of his prosecutors. This was probably about a case. Maybe some criminal was headed their way.
“Give me the number and I’ll call him back right now.”
While Hazel rattled off the number, in a small part of Zach’s mind, temptation warred with his good sense. Should he ask about Savannah? As he pounded the number into his cellphone, he knew temptation would win out. Besides, finding out how she was doing was normal. They’d grown up in the same town. In fact, it’d be damn strange if he didn’t mention her. Right?
Five minutes later, Zach ended the call and dropped the phone on the seat beside him. There’d been no
Ten years had passed since he’d seen her; held her in his arms, tasted her lips, heard her laughter, basked in her smile. She had gone on to fulfill her dreams. He had told her she would and he was glad to know that he’d been right. They’d been two kids who’d found what they needed at the time. Then life had interrupted in all its realistic and dirty glory.
As he came to the long drive leading to the mansion, Zach stopped the car. Even though it had stood empty since Daniel Wilde passed on, the residence was kept in perfect condition. Caretakers came weekly to mow the lawn, and a cleaning service dusted the furniture twice a week. He’d heard that fresh flowers were added to vases twice a week, too. With this place being the location of one of the most famous murder-suicides in Alabama in the twentieth century, gossip was rife about every aspect of the mansion. Some had even whispered that the ghost of Maggie Wilde still roamed the halls, calling out for her daughters. A few had claimed seeing a blond woman in white standing on the second-floor portico. Southerners did love a good ghost story.
The mansion was the traditional plantation-style home. Giant white columns, three on each side of the long, narrow porch, were so large and sturdy looking, they appeared to be holding up the entire structure. White rocking chairs gave off the appearance of restful indolence, and blood-red roses creeping up the trellises splashed vivid color against the stark white background of the brick. Moss-draped giant elms and oaks hovered protectively over magnolia, mimosa, and weeping willow trees. In late spring and early summer, the scent of the flowering trees, along with the thick fragrance from the wild honeysuckle in the woods behind the mansion, was almost overwhelming in its sweetness.
A few people still came by on their way to Gulf Shores or Biloxi to take pictures and gawk at one of the most famous mansions in Mobile county. When Zach looked at the massive picturesque structure, he saw something else. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned wavy, honey-gold hair that covered slender, delicate shoulders, eyes the color of new spring grass, and a smile like the first hint of summer after a bitter cold winter. And beneath that beauty, a genuinely sweet and kind spirit. Falling for Savannah had been so damn easy. Even ten years later, not a day went by that he didn’t think about her. And not a day went by that he didn’t curse himself for what he’d done to her.
The radio sputtered and the dispatcher, Hazel Adkins, croaked in her smoker’s voice, “Chief, you coming back to the office anytime soon?”
Zach shook off his memories and grabbed the radio mic. “Headed that way right now. What’s up?”
“Got a call from Reid Garrison, district attorney up in Nashville, Tennessee. Said he needed to talk to you real soon. Sounded kind of urgent-like.”
Zach’s heart stuttered. Savannah worked in the DA’s office in Nashville. Did this have anything to do with her? He mentally shook his head. No. There was no reason the DA would even know about his past relationship with one of his prosecutors. This was probably about a case. Maybe some criminal was headed their way.
“Give me the number and I’ll call him back right now.”
While Hazel rattled off the number, in a small part of Zach’s mind, temptation warred with his good sense. Should he ask about Savannah? As he pounded the number into his cellphone, he knew temptation would win out. Besides, finding out how she was doing was normal. They’d grown up in the same town. In fact, it’d be damn strange if he didn’t mention her. Right?
Five minutes later, Zach ended the call and dropped the phone on the seat beside him. There’d been no
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